


Panther's Prodigy

by xyma



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, BDSM, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Keith (Voltron), Omegaverse, Plot With Porn, Power Bottom Keith (Voltron), Rough Sex, Scenting, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 16:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyma/pseuds/xyma
Summary: In the den of the big cats, an omega-born boy with eyes of amaranthe is coming of age, his claws and teeth out, ready to caress and sink in unsuspecting skin and bone. Years of honing and drawing it along metals and gunpowder and fitting the barest of clothing, bringing any and every Alpha under his heel, unraveling the deepest, most erotic truth of their nature. He’s been taught from the shadows of his childhood the ways of the Panther: from the sway of his hips to the draw of his blade. No one before him has ever seen any of their kind so promising. So seductive. So deadly.They call him the Panther’s Prodigy.But you can call him Keith.





	1. The Champion Kneels

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely based off two different literary works, Red Sparrow and Love Interest, then reconstructed for what was originally used for a RP, until I tweaked it for it to become this fic!
> 
> I've always been so enamored with Omegaverse, and I'm taking this opportunity to try this out, in the level of heat, action, suspense and maybe some romance that I can execute.
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy!!
> 
> [Currently in search of a BETA! Will be busy starting next week for summer internship, so my time will be cut immensely :(]

In this world, Panthers do not lurk in shadows, numbers unknown and only a glimpse allowed in the depths of the jungle, afraid of what power the modern age has bestowed in the gun and holster of human beings who sit at pedestals and command their deaths like sport. Not anymore. They hide in broad daylight, in the tallest of buildings behind the closed doors of lions known as Alphas, where only vulnerability escapes their target, bringing even biology to its knee and at their polished heel’s beck and call. Ever ready to bear claws, ever ready to bite to the bone, only giving a caress over the mane, the fur and skin of the predator-become-prey they’ve chosen to hold without crushing, until it becomes insignificant enough to chew on between their pretty teeth. 

Even then, they’ll be eating them up until there’s nothing left. 

In the den of the big cats, an omega-born boy with eyes of amaranthe is coming of age, his claws and teeth out, ready to caress and sink in unsuspecting skin and bone. Years of honing and drawing it along metals and gunpowder and fitting the barest of clothing, bringing any and every Alpha under his heel, unraveling the deepest, most erotic truth of their nature. He’s been taught from the shadows of his childhood the ways of the Panther: from the sway of his hips to the draw of his blade. No one before him has ever seen any of their kind so promising. So seductive. So deadly. 

They call him the Panther’s Prodigy. 

But you can call him Keith.

* * *

Carnal desire, or any temptations of the flesh has never been so hard to turn away from than right now. The air is thick with it, humanity long gone, permeating his senses and squeezing every last bit of control out of his grasp, holding him captive in front of what he could only imagine to be lust incarnate. 

Shiro groans, hips bucking up and into the hole of the younger boy on top of him, despite the friction of undesired clothing between them. He’s struggling against the binds wrapped around his arms, his back forced straight against the post behind him. Unable to even orient his body to his surroundings, a thick cloud holding any semblance of reason far, far away from him.

The moans that escape the omega only riles him up further, and he finds himself growling and releasing his own pheromones in response, the boy seeming to melt only a little in his arms at the assault to his senses with his miniscule shiver in pleasure, but he bears his neck a breath away from the alpha, and Shiro could almost taste the deliciousness of his scent from the gland. 

He doesn’t know how this omega can still have the _audacity_ to tease him despite the headiness of his own alpha in the air. 

He doesn’t know how he’s still nowhere near subservient to his own alpha biology. 

But he likes the intensity of it all. 

The overpowering lust.

The _need._

Smaller fingers than his own run through the fluff of hair, now damp with sweat and sticking onto his forehead. They push it back and scratch the undercut below soothingly, and the officer finds his whole body trembling relentlessly in response, chasing the touch and leaning back onto it. The satisfied purr that leaks out means much, he realizes, that the omega is _preening_ at the unexpected hold of power he has over Shiro. He feels a kiss down his own neck and a tentative lick across his scent gland. A pleasant wave wracks through the Alpha’s body, relaxing almost immediately to the omega’s affection. He can only wonder, but he has a feeling that there’s a smug grin on the omega’s face. He can only imagine when his tie is being used as a makeshift blindfold. 

The hands slowly wander downwards, as fleeting as the touch of a ghost, running black, manicured nails over the dip of his collarbones and his nipples. He sharply inhales at the touch on perked nubs, and the trail stops. 

The pause is minute, before it smooths down even lower and with all the patience in the world, unbuttons his pants. 

The pace is tortuous. 

_“Alpha, baby, you’re a big boy, aren’t you…?”_ He whispers, low and seductive against Shiro’s ear with a finger only lightly running through the undeniably large bulge, and he bites back a groan in response, leans his head towards him to chase the mouth only to be stopped by a finger against his lips and a sudden grind onto his length, eliciting an even louder gasp. The sensation only worsens the build-up inside him, and he pleads for any semblance of release, choking out soft pleads to the omega on top of him. 

“You’re begging? Say it clearly, sweetheart… Tell me what you want.” 

His head is cradled, almost gently if he was foolish enough to think it wasn’t in dominance or love for possession. The back of his head is soothingly scratched, and it sends a whole new wave of ease and pleasure throughout his body. He’s finding a desire even more powerful than his own biology, and it’s equally erotic as it is terrifying. 

This _omega_ on top of him, is erotic as he is terrifying. 

He clears his throat - long been dry from the heat of the situation - and chokes out his less than holy intentions. 

“I.. want to feel you… Let me dominate you.” He seethes in the midst of a cloud of raw _want._ “Let me _rut_ you….”

“Will you make me feel the best I’ve ever had, baby?” 

Shiro feels hands cradling his face, thumbs running over his covered eyes, and a guttural groan escapes him. His response, he knows deep inside, is more than just words, but a surrender of his own morals and wisdom, a decision to be pliant to what’s supposed to be under, not above, him in every sense of the word. 

“Fuck, I’d do _anything…_ ”

* * *

Takashi Shirogane considers himself an average Alpha male in mind and routine, and others consider him above average if not exemplary in the physical and chemical aspect of it all. He easily towers over the average citizen in his area by a foot or more, and with shoulders as broad as his, and scent naturally earthy and musky as his, you could say he’s a sight and scent that’s impossible to miss.

But like any good, responsible Alpha citizen, scent masks are drilled into his everyday routine before heading to work. 

Because Shiro is, and will always be, a responsible Alpha citizen. 

More often than not, by his looks and calm demeanor alone, he’s approached by omegas of all kinds, even betas and alphas every now and then on his way going to or back from his work. With a coffee in hand and a suitcase in the other, he’s long been used to politely declining with a professional smile and kind yet stern tone, the response being:

_“Sorry, my work doesn’t permit me to.”_

Which leaves such a large door of possibilities into what Shiro’s job could even be. In that moment of curiosity and wonder, he’d walk away from the person, hoping to keep the open-ended response as it is. It’s not that he’s ashamed.

It’s that people, really, aren’t allowed to know. 

When he sits at his seat, a separate table from the rest of the group because he’s The Leader of his squad, he tends to ask himself why he even bothers to wake up at ungodly hours just to stay overtime when he finds something worth scouting on. Why he accepted to be the team leader of the under the table Vox Lions Department of Investigation, when he could earn just as much or even more as a model, with more recognition.

 _It’s a matter of Justice,_ he’d always remind himself, _Protecting others using my own capabilities. The sanctity of the people. Never for fame, nor for fortune._

He holds pride in himself for holding such pure intentions and big ambitions. For being a good, responsible Alpha, who does not live or feel fulfillment on the basis of indulging in his biology’s needs. They call him Champion for his above-all and pristine work ethic, and the way he never gives in to temptations of the flesh. _“No, thank you.”_ he’d always say, when they invite him to a night out at a hostclub, a promise of beautiful male and female omegas and betas alike. But on account of self-preservation, Shiro is only refusing to admit that he just wants to prove himself in places where he shouldn’t have to. Holding such an admirable image of a non-rutbrainned Alpha makes him feel above himself, in denial that there is something amiss lurking underneath his skin. 

A beast craving to be awoken, if met by a scent irresistible enough to break through the thick skin of its owner. 

But destiny has its ways, and it starts with the weather.

Soaked to the skin, an omega’s scent filters out of their pores much heavier, all the more so when they are undergoing heat, entangling itself with the powerful scent of fresh droplets. A large percent of the omega population avoid leaving their houses when the forecast calls for it, Shiro once found in a survey-based research when he first started out, to lower the risk of that exact reason. But once, a small omega woman, brave as she is, also admitted that they also do so because cries of help cannot be heard over the crashing of droplets on pavement. _It’s always to make themselves feel safer._ He says to himself. Shiro can’t blame them. 

The officer is brought to a moment of hesitation when his doorbell is rung, and a foreboding scent could be sensed from his place on the couch, on the other side of the house. His gut turns a little inside him, and his hand twitches involuntarily. 

There was a storm that night, and no one, no male, female, omega, beta nor alpha, should’ve been out there. 

_That was his instinct’s first warning, and he should’ve taken it._

His feet move to the door before his mind catches up to him, and that alone is uncharacteristic of level-headed, decisive leader Takashi Shirogane. He doesn’t even realize when he’s already standing at the entrance of his door, hand on the knob and ready to let whatever blatant bad news’ messing with his biology, inside the safety of his home.

Until he finally stops, then tries to listen to a voice of reason. 

_Riiiing. Riiiing._

Another wave of an alluring, mouth-watering scent of a balance of lavender and sandalwood crashes into him, mercilessly, as if it had every intention to slaughter any self-control that stood in its way. 

The voice of reason is lost.

He turns the knob and pulls. 

Shorter by more than a head, stood a boy - an omega, he knows by scent alone - wearing a purple raincoat, a shade matching his pleading, large amaranthe eyes. He seems so small. Helpless. With arms wrapped around himself, crouched over and eyes downturned, Shiro can’t help but feel a need to protect. A small surge of a protective urge beats in his veins, and he wills it back down to keep his pheromones at bay. Common courtesy. 

The boy finally looks up at him, purple orbs sparkling with hope, and the officer is left speechless at how beautiful they look, and how lost in them he already is. At that moment, swallowing became difficult, throat dry and hands twitching. To see someone so beautiful in the midst of a storm is something more than a dream. _Suspicious even,_ his mind tries to supply him, but he waves it off for the purpose of being a good, responsible alpha trying to help.

_That was his instinct’s second warning, and he should’ve taken it._

The boy whispers and tilts his head to the side in submission, exhales breathlessly like a whine, and Shiro’s head spins at just three words.

_“I need help, Alpha...”_


	2. The First Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew has a small interest in what could be a miniature crack in their team leader's pristine work ethic, and Takashi Shirogane has more problems to worry about beyond his new living arrangement.

“I need help...” the omega says before he’s collapsing forward, knees buckling in.

Shiro steps in and catches the boy right on time, pulling him up carefully with his arms wrapped around his middle, hoping to give him enough support. His eyes find the unnatural rosiness of cheeks, body shivering from the cold and breathing heavy and damp with rain and sweat. Sniffing tentatively, he finally finds the reason beyond the intensity of the omega smell, and he shakes his head to push away any unnecessary urges that begin to surface. The carnal desires are outweighed by the innate desire to protect. The boy in his arms definitely has a fever.

The officer takes a deep breath and exhales, clearing his mind to be able to properly tend to the predicament before him. He leans downwards then hooks his arms under his legs, carrying him off the ground as if the guy was paperweight. Shiro stumbles in footing at the realization that he isn’t.

An odd feeling brings Shiro to look around, something likened to the sensation of being watched but sees nothing beyond the gushes of rain and the trees. He closes the door behind him as he re-enters, then carrying the limp body on one arm to lock each of his seven extra locks, just to be safe. He contemplates what he just did, staring at the locked door with the sound of harsh rain still filtering into his ears. The body stirs and his eyes are drawn down.

He notes the weight of the body, how it looks so small yet apparently compacted with what feels to be a decent amount of muscle, and muses to himself that omegas have a hard time getting bigger in general. Placing him down on the couch, he takes the abandoned blanket from the other side and carefully repositions the pillow to rest under the omega’s head, pulling the blanket on top of the omega as his chest heavily expands and retracts.

Shiro is drawn to the slender of his neck and the length of his lashes, concluding it as a basic fact that the person in front of him has features one would consider beautiful, more than the average omega, even. A heat begins to unravel and Shiro mutters a small _“Fuck”_ to himself, jerking himself upwards from his squatting position on the floor and rushing to the bathroom.

He opens cabinet after cabinet until he finds the scent masking gel that he brings to the field to clear his head from any perturbing scents. Unscrewing the lid, he dips his index finger into the gel and swipes it under his nose, the smell overpowering and completely filtering out any memory of the scent of the omega. His nose scrunches up at the intense, sterile scent of it and he stares at himself at the mirror, wondering if what he’s been doing is truly the right thing to do.

Bringing in an omega during a storm reminds him of abandoning lost kittens, something every alpha has an urge for deep inside, perhaps not as obvious as their omega counterparts, but there all the same. _This biology,_ Shiro justifies to himself word per word, _has a natural urge to want to command over in a disciplinary type of care, wants to be able to feel control over what they consider as their responsibility._ When he remembers those weak, purple eyes, he finds it hard not to make that association. But he knows better than to stoop a human being lower than their actual level.

The water runs down the faucet as he washes his face, and he rubs the beads onto his cheeks in routine circular motions, in hopes of clearing his head to consult his own trusted voice of reason.

Silence rings back, heavy on his shoulders. Taking the container of gel, he makes his way back to the living room, watching over the omega until he wakes.

_The earlier he wakes the faster I can hear from him. The faster he can leave, and I won’t have to deal with this._ He tells himself, eyes closed and fingers intertwined. _I just do my job, as always. That’s all. He smells like lavender and sandalwood._

Shiro’s eyes snap open in alarm to his own train of thought, catching himself and burying his head in his hands, groaning lowly. The omega before him does smell like a perfect balance of a soothing lavender and powerful sandalwood, and Shiro worries for what that means, considering that scents have a relation to the person’s own vibe. The officer swipes another thumb of gel under his nose and sighs, getting up to find the scent diffuser he’s long abandoned with the idea of the company in his home.

He reminds himself that taking this dusty piece out does not mean anything of this arrangement.

 

* * *

 

The gush of rain hides even the loudest of screams.

A tall figure follows in sure, steady steps, foot falling in step one in front of the other. A big cat stalking its prey, is what it appears to be, a proud and astute air in the upward tilt of their head and glint of a blade in hand despite the cloak of the alley’s darkness.

The man screams for help, but the rain does little to help him. He’s cornered, on his knees and begging for his life to the figure that stops a good foot or two in front of him. They - It? - easily towers in front of the weak frame.

“Please, please, I beg you, anything, I’ll pay you more! Three times, even five times more! I have a, a wife and kids waiting for me at home please…!” He’s sobbing his heart out, frantically grasping at loose straws for the speck of hope that he would be spared. The gushes of rain are all he could hear, and he dares to look at the being in the eye, tilting his head upwards to meet merciless cold, violet eyes.

“.... Babygirl?”

The motion is a quick, diagonal slash down his neck, deep across the bone and the blood spews all over across the pavement. The rainwater scatters the remnants of the deed down the alley, pristine transparent liquid turning a harsh scarlet. The smell of fresh iron permeates their nose and it scrunches up in mock distaste.

Thunder booms and lightning flashes through the sky. Lips and hair of violet seen in the split second before the alley is coated back in black.

 

* * *

 

Keith wakes to the whirring sound of a diffuser and the warmth of a comforter. A purr escapes him in the atmosphere of it all, how the warmth of sunlight veils the opposite wall and to the couch perpendicular to his. His mind picks up the pieces in a snap and he remembers what he’s here for by the time his eyes find his prey, the man with jaws cut and shaped by the gods, hair black with a tuft that has Keith thinking of a rabbit’s butt. He blinks minutely, musing to himself that he’s much more handsome than he had seen from the pictures. _What a treat._

He sleeps there in complete surrender, arms resting under his head, phone resting on his stomach and legs stretching out, feet on the armrest. _This would be the perfect time to just shove a knife down his throat_ , he thinks. Keith sits up on the couch and the rustling wakes the other.

“..! You’re awake. Stay down, you might still be down with the fever.” Shiro says, swinging his legs off the couch and getting up hurriedly, phone in hand. “I’m Shiro, and I’m an alpha but I promise… I won’t hurt you.”

“Keith.”

“Keith?”

The omega smiles. “My name is Keith,” he exhales with a breathless whisper, leaning his head just enough to show him an inch more of his neck, “And thank you.”

Shiro’s breath catches the smallest bit at the gesture and he looks away in shame. Massaging his temples he reckons that it wasn’t intentional and sighs, psyching himself up for what he’s been practicing the past hour or so.

“Look… I really do want to help you, but you can’t stay here,” he sits back down and carefully gestures through his sentences. “I’m an Alpha.”

The omega stares at him, sliding his gaze away to the floor in contemplation, expertly selecting the best set of words.

“But you’re a good Alpha.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

Violet eyes look at him, a pleading determination instilled in them. “Please. I.. I can’t go back. You’re a good alpha, you didn’t do anything to me. I know it.”

“I could help you find another place, I have an omega friend who-“

“No.”

Shiro looks up, a little thrum in him is agitated at the misbehavior, but he finds the boy holding the comforter to his face, inhaling _his_ scent and he can’t help but feel flattered at how he visibly eases because of it. He hears a sigh of satisfaction.

“I feel safe here,” Keith says, and Shiro melts a little inside. Contemplating heavily, he thinks over the circumstance. Keeping him close does more bad than good for the both of them, the fact looms in front of his head. He has more than enough reasons to say no, but looking at him - all pretty with honest violet eyes and a soothing scent - Shiro finds himself wanting to be a little selfish, so he ignores all the telltale signs of a coming disaster.

_Just this once_ , he says.

“How long do you need?”

Keith searches the wall behind Shiro, mind wandering into the specifics of his mission. An estimate comes up.

“One month.”

“One month.” the officer echoes back, and a pause holds the air for a few beats, “... I’ll think about it.”

Shiro turns away and tells him to go back to sleep to rest, not to touch anything, and that they’d talk about it in the morning. The omega gives a thank you loud enough for him to hear across the hallway.

The alpha in him doesn’t let him sleep until an hour after, him willing his biology to not overreact to the thought of cohabiting with an omega. _This is only temporary_ , he reminds himself before he drifts off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The arrangement terms are made simple in Shiro’s official house rules:

  1. **No going beyond the divide** made at the beginning of the smaller hallway.
  2. **Use scent-maskers**. All kinds. The soap, the shampoo and the lotion, and the gel if you feel the need because of me.
  3. **Don’t touch any of my things** , except for basic necessities like food, water, toiletries, etc.
  4. **Avoid going out** , or text if you will and have all seven locks closed at all times.
  5. **Have my number on speed dial.** Do not hesitate to call if need be.
  6. **Keep me updated on your heat cycle**. We will figure out how to deal with it before it comes/ If it does.



Setting aside a basket of basic needs at Keith’s feet, the latter’s outfit reminds Shiro that he barely has clothes to change into, currently wearing what Shiro had initially just bought for himself, a plain black shirt and gartered shorts. Making a face of contemplation at Keith’s definitely ⅓ of his own body type, he reaches a solution.

“I’ll buy you clothes later when I get back,” he says, still staring at him and Keith looks down at himself, allowing a blush to creep in with a sheepish smile, aware of the stark contrast of his morning look to Shiro’s pristine black suit.

“I’ll come with you.”

Shiro doesn’t even try to retort, needing to prepare for work. At the door, Keith tells him to have a good day with a smile, still wearing Shiro’s shirt hanging off his shoulder, and the officer can’t help but fumble over his words.

“There’s breakfast, lock all of the uh... The locks. Seven. And- good day, to you. Bye.”

Keith finds the fumbling cute, but makes no remark as he waves and closes the door, following instruction.

On the way to work, Shiro’s mind doesn’t leave the patch of exposed skin he saw, almost tripping over cracks, forgetting his coffee, and accidentally stepping on at least five people on the way. His mind preoccupied with what to do with the … living being in his home, he even forgets to greet people before he’s slumping on his chair at the helm of VLD: I’s room, to the notice of his colleagues.

Lance stops typing to lean over closer to Hunk.

“Hunk, buddy, you see what I’m seeing?”

“Shiro? Yeah. Rough morning maybe. Poor guy.”

“ _Busy_ morning?” he wiggles an eyebrow at him.

“Quit it, Lance. He might hear you.” Hunk nudges him, glancing at Shiro who is still staring up at the ceiling, even when Pidge drops an armful of paper on his desk. He leans back, “... You think so?”

“How about we ask?”

“Wha- No, no, no..!” Lance is already walking towards Shiro’s table before Hunk could reach him to pull him back. “Ohhh noo, Pidge…”

Pidge leans out to watch the interaction in amusement, to the dismay of Hunk’s pleas to help.

“So, Shiro, boss … someone got you all worked up?” Shiro’s head whips to him, in clear guilt until it quickly quips back to the stoic leader-face.

“..... No, just a bad morning. Don’t worry, you can go back to work.” He says, reaching out and opening a folder, expertly pretending to read it with laser focus. Lance lifts a brow, and with the clear termination of the conversation, walks back and plops down on his seat, letting it swivel before pulling back to the table.

“So?” Pidge asks from the seat, eyes glancing towards him while fingers continue typing quickly.

“ _De-fi-nite-ly_ someone.”

Hunk sighs. “Let’s just leave him alone, okay? He’ll get back in his groove.”

Shiro doesn’t.

By the time the clock strikes 12, Hunk painfully watches as Shiro time and time forgot a folder he needed, signed the wrong side of the paper, and spaced out even over Lance’s incessant calls. It’s unbearable, to watch an astute man like Shiro be so skittish over something, or someone, as Lance hinted. While the other members of the crew don’t have it in themselves to initiate, Hunk decides to be the bigger man and be there for him, and considering everything Shiro’s done for them - pulling VLD:I’s Tron crew from the rubble to the top spot - it’s the least he could do.

He catches Shiro in the break room, fingers intertwined and staring off at the opposite wall, his coffee long gone cold. With a sigh, Hunk knocks on the door frame.

“Shiro?” The man visibly blinks out of a reverie, drawing his eyes to his subordinate.

“Oh, Hunk. Need something?”

“Not exactly. Uh..” He pulls out a chair and sits in front of him. He talks with slow and careful consideration of his words. “You’ve been kinda… How do I say this uh…”

“Out of it, I know.” A sigh escapes the superior officer. “Embarrassing.”

“No! I mean, everyone’s got their bad days. Lance has them in hours per day. I’ve got them too.” Hunk gestures out, then stops. “I mean. Talking helps. If you want to talk, of course.”

The silence stretches between them and Hunk wonders if he should say something else or take the hint to back off. Before he speaks, Shiro cuts in.

“Per se... Cohabiting..” He draws his eyes down and to the side in deep contemplation. “You live with Lance, right?”

“Huh? Yeah. What about it? Are we in trouble?”

“No, I was wondering... How does it go.” Shiro leans his back against the chair and rolls his shoulders, pressing his palms on the table and exhaling. “I mean this from Alpha to Alpha.”

_Ohhh, I see where this is going._ Hunk thinks, and inside he’s entirely amused that Takashi Shirogane of all people is in this sort of predicament. He wants to ask, but being privy is not on his list of things to do for him, and knows that the latter sentence was underlying a request of secrecy that Hunk is blessed to be honored an opportunity with. He thinks back to the starting weeks of his cohabitation with Lance, and his mind fleets through all of his mistakes. If he had the chance, he would’ve asked for help, too. Asking him about cohabiting would possibly mean that Shiro’s in the company of an omega.

“So, omegas have a huge range of stuff they need that we probably never thought about. Let’s start with uh, their daily routine….”

 

* * *

 

Shiro is in the middle of writing estimates of a field work’s financial plan, pen circling in cringing fat zeros when the door is opened, revealing a well-clothed Allura in a pristine white suit of her own. The entire squad stops working, standing in reflex to address her entrance. Shiro follows not a second shorter.

“Allura.” Shiro starts, bowing slightly and down turning his eyes in respect only to be bonked in the head by a rolled stack of paper. The rest of the team holds in a laugh, though Lance doesn’t hide a wheeze. “Wha--”

“Enough of the formalities, you are coming with me.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Bring your coat, we go now.”

Turning on her heel with high poise, she makes her way to the door, exchanging a few words from the others on the way along “Take care of him, Lura.” and “Bye.”, giving Shiro takes a second longer to straighten his papers and grab his coat, following her out. On exiting the building and getting into her car, Allura looks at him with deep concern in her eyes.

“Your mind’s been all over the place. Is something going on?”

“Is this what you dragged me out for?”

“Partly.”

“It’s nothing. Just an off day, but that’s fine, I’ve been back and running since lunch.”

“Well... I do hope so because I’m bringing you to the scene.” She slips out a glass of wine from the tray between them and takes a sip. “We believe it’s another bead in the string of the recent cases.”

“The murders.” It wasn’t a question, Shiro knows what majority of the folders on his table have been for.

“Yes, and I wanted to ask… Shiro, what scents attract you most?”

“If this is your way of discreetly asking me what I want my mate to smell like, thanks, but no thanks.” _Lavender and sandalwood._ His mind flits back to who is waiting for him at home. To Keith. He chews on his bottom lip.

“It’s a harmless question.”

“... Back on track. What do you know so far about the victim?”

Allura briefly pauses before giving in and slipping back the wine glass into its holder, steadying it despite the speed of the car. She tucks out a folder from the compartment under the wine and hands it over to Shiro, who opens it and skims his eyes over the text. The car eventually comes to a stop, and they are escorted out.

“A politician. Death by a deep cut across the neck.”

They lift the tape to enter the alley, and Shiro slips out the small container of masking gel from his pocket, sweeping it under his nose at the putrid smell of the corpse and blood mixed with water. The corpse is being photographed by Coran, Allura’s right-hand and confidant who had served her father in his time.

“Shiro! Heard you broke the copying machine.” The sound of a flashing shutter breaks the silence along with the orange-haired man’s voice.

“It’s nice to see you too, Coran,” Shiro says and gives him a smile in greeting.

Allura looks at the corpse, drawing out gloves from her inner pocket and putting them on with swift and trained grace. She lowers down near the corpse, and Shiro notices the stark contrast of the alley to Allura’s white outfit, and how he himself blends in.

“It’s quite fresh… I’d say near midnight to early morning. Note this down, Coran, as well as the surrounding surveillance.” She gets up and takes off the gloves.

Shiro thinks back to how Keith was at his door in the same timeframe. _He could have become a victim,_ he thinks, _if he wandered about in the rain_. It eases his heart in the slightest that he prevented that.

It dawns on him that he is yet to find out what brought Keith to his front door, to begin with.

_Near midnight to early morning._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extremely late update! Just got back from a competition abroad aaaaa I was studying for it the entire time of my unavailability, and it paid off well. Thank you for your patience!! <3
> 
> PanPro is pre-planned until the second part of its series! 
> 
> xy.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think of it in the comments below! <3 Hope you enjoyed. uvu
> 
> I tweet updates. sneakpeeks and stuff!! (this, BJH, and upcoming pieces)
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/xymaaaa)


End file.
